Que no se haga moda.
Que la policia diga "somos seguridad"
Que la justicia diga "somos equidad"
Que los politicos en cargos o en la cola para un cargo digan "somos democracia".
Necesariamente, esta moda que prendió fuerte entre auto-obsecuentes al definirse o pretender se los defina como lo que suponen se los percibe, a la pregunta implicita, que ven cuando te ven, te lo pueden decir los demas, no vos mismo.
Como dijo alguien "ser o no ser, esa es la pregunta". (no la cuestión) siempre fué mal interpretado ese texto, del soliloquio de Hamlet.
Aqui el texto original en ingles, escrito allá por el 1600 en una isla lejana. Frases muy usadas, por quien usa el latigo como el tiempo escarnio, y la la tierra de donde nadie ha regresado, y no somos nada, esta ultima de Altavista, Mingo, comediante Argentino. Para pensarlo.
- To be, or not to be: that is the question:
- Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
- The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
- Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
- And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
- No more; and by a sleep to say we end
- The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
- That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
- Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
- To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
- For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
- When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
- Must give us pause: there's the respect
- That makes calamity of so long life;
- For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
- The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
- The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
- The insolence of office and the spurns
- That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
- When he himself might his quietus make
- With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
- To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
- But that the dread of something after death,
- The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
- No traveller returns, puzzles the will
- And makes us rather bear those ills we have
- Than fly to others that we know not of?
- Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
- And thus the native hue of resolution
- Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
- And enterprises of great pith and moment
- With this regard their currents turn awry,
- And lose the name of action.—Soft you now!
- The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
- Be all my sins remember'd.
Hermoso ! leer a Shakespeare en su idioma nativo es siempre grato
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